


don't frighten the horses

by isawet



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10631118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawet/pseuds/isawet
Summary: Santana starts by looking at herself in the mirror.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think I wrote this in high school. It's so cringey but this is my archive (lol) so it's here. Tbh I wouldn't recommend reading it. Like... high school me wasn't good at writing. And I thought this was here already?? Idk what's up with ao3.

Santana starts by looking at herself in the mirror.

“I am,” she says, “I, I am I am I am--”

 

 

Brittany is a terrible dance teacher. She practically vibrates in place when she dances, and Santana is a good dancer, she really is--the Cheerios have given her the body that makes every boy stop and stare when she walks down the halls, but no one can move like Brittany can. Brittany counts _one two three four, one_ , but when Santana stops her and asks her to explain that particular move more clearly Brittany gets the same expression she gets when Mr. Schue tries to tell her she can’t just say a bunch of words in Spanish and expect them to become a coherent sentence.

 _you just do it_ , Brittany says, and twists her body in a way that gives Santana serious concerns about the future well-being of her spinal column.

Santana dances next to Brittany and knows she is outclassed. She isn’t used to the feeling of not the the best the brightest the hottest in the room, but when Brittany moves there aren’t any eyes for anything else, and Santana would be jealous, but--

But then Brittany slips behind her and moves her whole body against Santana’s in one long slow roll or Brittany slides to the beat in a way that makes her ponytail bounce just so and Santana’s mouth will go dry the way it did when she saw Leyla Bucknor in a pink ruffled dress the first day of second grade.

 

 

 _And I’m getting older, too_ Santana sings, and thinks it to be true. They’re not dancing they’re sitting and singing and everything besides just them is blurred and insignificant. Brittany looks at her and smiles and Santana wants to be the one to put that smile on her face everyday and keeping it soft and gentle, just as it looks in this moment. Santana wants to wake up with blonde hair across her pillow and her cheek on the nape of Brittany’s neck.

 

 

Brittany and Santana have started running together, because Santana’s metabolism isn’t good enough to quit the Cheerios _and_ eat everything she’d foregone for those shiny trophies in Sue’s office, and because they’ve always done things together. Their strides are the same and their feet hit the pavement at the same time without even trying. Santana likes it, she likes the way they run when most of Lima is asleep in their beds, and it’s just her and Brittany in the grey brightness of the early morning light. Santana has her first bite of pizza in two years and decides they need to start two-a-days.

 

Brittany isn’t stupid, Santana thinks, perched on Brittany’s kitchen counter, because they don’t have the Cheerios anymore and Glee was cancelled because Finn rushed into the bandroom two minutes before they would have started, babbling about dance practice and breaking Quinn. Brittany is rummaging in her freezer for hot pockets and eating a popsicle in a way that leaves Santana slightly distracted, and when Brittany moves to stick the food in the microwave Santana lets herself linger on the prickle of sweat on Brittany’s collarbone. She’s moving to lick up Brittany’s neck and slide her palm around the sharp just of Brittany’s hipbone when the microwave erupts in hissing sparks and the acrid smell of burning food.

“It’s okay,” Brittany says when Santana moves to peer into the viewing window and gape at the small fire within, “it’s winter and fires can’t burn when it’s cold.”

 

Later Santana has her pinned up against her bedroom door with the tip of her tongue testing the sharpness of Brittany’s right canine. Her hand slips under Brittany’s shirt and she smoothes her thumb across Brittany’s bellybutton, but when she dips three fingers under the elastic of Brittany’s running shorts Brittany pulls away.

“Artie...” she says, and looks guilty.

Brittany is kind of stupid, but not in the ways that matter.

 

 

Gay One and Gay Two go out of town again and Rachel throws an “Alcohol Free Broadway Bonanza,” which Santana graces with her presence because the party invites aren’t exactly pouring in since they left Sue standing in a parking lot. Kurt hijacks the ipod plugged into the speakers with that other kid from Homo High and Santana tries to pretend her margarita isn’t virgin.

Brittany sits on Artie’s lap and smiles when he spins them around, slow-dancing to fast beat and pounding bass. Santana sleeps with Sam just because she can.

 

His parents are out visiting an aunt and he’s careful with her, blushing and asking if it hurt. Santana brushes her fingers across his ribs and doesn’t take it personally when he breathes _Quinn_ into her neck. Afterward she moves to leave but he catches her hand and kisses her so gently it’s almost chaste. Sam reminds her of Tommy Gerino, the boy that left her flowers and chocolates in her desk until he moved away in sixth grade, with notes that said _you’re beautiful_ in a different language every week, sweet and soft with a big smile.

Sam makes her a banana split and they watch Lord of the Rings on his couch until Santana falls asleep to him whispering the Elvish lines along with the soundtrack.

 

 

Tina and Artie get a slushie to the face during third period break on Tuesday and Mike gets a black eye trying to defend their honour. Santana takes the opportunity to vent some steam and ends up in Figgins’ office with Mr. Schue shooting her vaguely disappointed looks.

“You punched three students in the face,” Figgins boggles.

“They had it coming,” Santana spits, and Mr. Schue sighs.

“Two of them were innocent bystanders,” Figgins says, and Santana shrugs a shoulder. The nerdy kid with the hipster glasses had cut her in the lunch line last week and she doesn’t actually remember bitchslapping the other kid.

“Suspension!” Figgins shouts, and turns several colours.

When she and Mike come back Mr. Schue announces Peace Week.

 

 

Santana sings _Leaving on A Jet Plane_ and is careful not to look at Brittany during any telling lyrics because that shit is a tad too melodramatic.

 _I don’t know when I’ll be back again_ , she sings, but her voice breaks on the next line and she stays home the next day, claiming sickness. Then she gets really drunk at a bar and breaks down in the parking lot until Mr. Schuester comes to get her.

“Santana,” he says gently, and holds her hair back when she retches violently on the curb of the road. Then he takes her to his guest bedroom and feeds her water until she passes out, and drives her home in the morning.

“Hey,” he says when she mumbles a thank you and moves to close the car door. “I’m glad you called me,” he says, and Santana thinks Mr. Schue is a really good guy.

 

 

Santana starts by looking at herself in the mirror. 

“I am gay,” she says, and turns off the light and goes to bed.


End file.
